Page 17 of One Last Rainy Day
“Where did you get that?” I ask, glowering at her from where I stand at the end of the couch. She nervously crosses her toned legs at the ankles, no longer at ease.
Good. She shouldn’t be so fucking comfortable in any of my spaces.
Glancing down at her book, a barely there smile lifts her lips before she speaks. “The library. I checked it out the other day and snuck out another. It’s kind of a tradition.” I’m all too aware of her little tradition. She was taking part in it the first time I saw her—which was supposed to be the last. Right now, I fucking hate the fact that it wasn’t.
“Stupid fucking tradition considering the books arefree...and the library is off limits,” I growl, knowing whata fucking idiot I sound like. “Also, this is not a community playground, despite what Sean might have told you. Find somewhere else tospreadout,” I spit, eyeing the scrap of fabric she’s excusing as a dress.
She scoffs. “You’re seriously saying thepublic libraryis yours?”
“The whole fucking town is mine, Cecelia.”
Her perfect features distort into anger, intensifying her beauty as she stands quickly, losing grip on the hardback, which lands with athwackon the floor behind her. Turning to retrieve it, she bends at the waist, inadvertently giving me a show. Between tanned, toned thighs, I spot a strip of cobalt blue panties. The thin material shifts with her movement giving me a peek of her pussy as she painstakingly bends inch by inch to retain some modicum of modesty and fails. Inwardly groaning, I keep my gaze fixed where it shouldn’t be as she rethinks her strategy. Bending at the knees, she palms the couch to stay upright, back ramrod straight as I clear the other side of the coffee table and snatch it up before she reaches it.
Eyeing the title,The Bronze Horseman, I smirk and look up at her, making sure my exhale hits the gap between her thighs as I slowly stand, palming the couch and mimicking her ridiculous movement. “Might want to return the eight-year-old’s dress you borrowed if you plan on spending time in a place filled with heavy machinery. Then again, don’t bother. This particular stop won’t be frequent for you.”
“You’re like a dark cloud. You know that? Can’t spot a single sun ray for shit with you hovering.”
“Just so long as we’re clear.”
“That you’re an entitled, raging prick,” she utters under her breath, “we’recrystal.”
Bending to eye level—the tips of our noses close to brushing—her deep blues dilate as I invade her space. “Assume what you will about me, or better yet—” I press the book into her heaving chest, and her glossy pink lips part “—stick with your bullshit fantasies of virtuous heroes in a nonexistent reality. You’re much saferthere.”
Turning, I grab what I need to fill my toolbox before stalking out the side door. Every hair on my body stands on end as I adjust the hard-on straining against my zipper. Once again, I’ve been forced away from my second home in order to avoid more exposure to her and the way she stares at me—too fucking much, for too fucking long. At first, it seemed innocent enough and served its purpose. Now it’s grating on me because no matter how many times I avoid her curious stare, I eventually look back at her. When I do, I’m reminded of why I’ve been avoiding her for the few weeks she’s been here—a reason my body no longer refuses to ignore.
The need to fuck her.
More than that, I want to do it in a way that punishes Sean’s prized new pet while making an example out of her, so he finally gets the goddamned memo.
Sean’s smitten, it’s obvious to everyone, and it’s just a matter of time before he fucks her—if he hasn’t already. But soon, he’ll be made aware of just how much he fucked up. No matter how perfect our enemy’s daughter is—and I can admit that much—she’s getting in the way of our agenda and, more importantly, our friendship.
Even if she’s nothing more than a defenseless mouse caught in a trap we didn’t set, she’s got Roman’s blood pumping in her veins. I’ll make it a point to make fucking sure Seanstarts to see it that way because his assurances are getting weaker by the day.
Stalking through the graveyard of cars at the back of our shop, I spot the one I have in mind. I head over to it, pissed I didn’t drag a shop light out with me as the sun threatens to set—the need to keep my distance taking precedence.
With Cecelia, I don’t like who I am or the effect she has on me when we’re around each other.
She’s a rare type of flame far too close to my fuse—which is shortening by the day, some because of her invasion, most of it due to the constant nightmares looping in my mind.
Despite my actions, I take little pleasure in how I’ve treated her. Like Tobias, I see women as innocent bystanders of our cause. This makes them an inconvenience after we use them for our selfish purposes—which is why I don’t hook up often. My progression in that department is stunted because of what I have to offer—what I’ve always had to offer when it comes to women—nothing.
At this point, it’s about protection. Cecelia’s allure is just as fucking dangerous to us as it is to her. Opening the hood of the Buick, I add another task to my list—to prove it to Sean before she does.
Chapter Nine
“AN ALARMING NUMBERof warehouse robberies have taken place in downtown Charlotte in the last three days, costing freight shipping mogul, Anthony Spencer, of Export Execs, an estimated 1.8 million dollars in merchandise,” the radio anchor reports as I pull up to the warehouse.
Idling in my Camaro, I scan our bustling compound as the reporter drones on. “Authorities believe that Spencer is being directly targeted, but the police have no leads at this time. They ask if anyone has any information—”
Killing the engine, I exit as Peter backs his Fleet van into the warehouse next to Jeremy’s, which is being unloaded to add Spencer’s merch to our stock of goods.
Loaded dollies are carted toward the warehouse as Denny stops them taking inventory before they’re hauled in. Russell pulls the last van up as satisfaction runs through me, and I shoot off a text to Tyler in wait for Sean.
All birds safely in the nest.
Jeremy exits the driver’s side of his van and makes his way toward me, pride evident in his eyes. Peter is on his heels,and his expression is lit with the same sentiment. It’s earned because it’s one of Peter’s first major scores while being a part of our secret.
“Where’s Sean?” I glance back at the open security gate.
